Sidekicks
by pennylayne
Summary: When Jack's parents adopt a new child, Jack and David get rid of him by befriending him with Les. However, the two boys find more in each other than they ever thought they would.
1. Underprivileged

"So, you've got a little brother now?" David asked, glancing up at a cloud as it passed over them.

Jack sighed, looking over at his best friend as they laid in the grass. "Yeah. My dad married that dumb broad Linda and she convinced him to adopt some poor, underprivileged orphan from the city. Like I wasn't enough already." He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his arm. "And this kid is so freakin' annoying. Always following me around the house and shit. I'm surprised he didn't follow me here."

"Francis! Francis!"

The two boys looked over to see a little boy running down the hill towards them. Jack groaned. "Speak of the devil."

"Francis," the boy said as he reached them, collapsing onto the grass and panting.

"Look, kid, I told you. My name is Jack. _Not_ Francis."

"But Dad said--"

"I don't care what Dad said. My name is Jack Kelly." Jack pulled at some grass in irritation. "Now what do you want?"

"I'm bored. Mom and Dad said to come find you." The boy grinned at Jack, hoping for some reaction other than the unabashed disdain Jack was showing him.

"How'd you know where we were?"

"I had to look all around the whole neighborhood. Took me forever to find you. It's funny, 'cuz I got lost and I found you totally on accident. It's like you guys were trying to hide from me or something." He chuckled a little, as if it were a joke and Jack was supposed to reassure him that it wasn't true.

"Dave, did I forget to mention the kid's a genius, too?" David let out a snort, then sat up.

"This is him?" David looked over the little boy, from his dark, chocolate-colored skin, to his curly hair, to his huge brown eyes, all the way down to his old, tattered leather boots.

"Yeah," Jack said, not even trying to mask his distaste for the situation. Rolling his eyes, he waved his hand at the little boy. "Dave, this is Cornelius. Cornelius, this is Dave."

"Cornelius Sullivan?" David smirked. "Man, Jack, you were right. He _is_ underprivileged."

Cornelius looked from Jack to David, confused. "What's underprivileged?"

"It means you're denied the enjoyment of the normal privileges or rights of a society because of low economic and social status," David said, adjusting the collar of his hooded sweatshirt to block out the crisp fall air.

"Oh... kay..." Cornelius blinked at David, then looked at Jack. "So can I hang out with you guys?"

"No," the boys said in unison, shaking their heads.

"We have an age limit of sorts," David said.

"Yeah, and height. Kind of like _you must be this tall to ride_."

"Also no casts, open-toed shoes, and people who are pregnant or have heart conditions should reconsider." The boys collapsed into a fit of laughter, leaving Cornelius to sit and pout.

"Hey, David!" A small boy stood at the top of the hill, waving. When David looked up, the boy ran down to the small group.

"What?" David sighed, looking pitifully over at Jack.

"Hi, Jack," the little boy said as he reached them, and Jack nodded before the boy turned back to David. "Mama said to tell you she has to go out and run errands so I'm s'posed to bring you your house key." He held out a key and dropped it into David's hand, then looked over at Cornelius.

"Thanks," David said. "Bye."

"Hey, who's this kid?"

David mumbled some swear word in Hebrew and Jack raised his eyes to the sky. "Les, this is my... _brother_, Cornelius. Cornelius, this is David's little brother, Les."

Cornelius smiled at Les, and Les raised an eyebrow. "Cornelius? What kind of a name is Cornelius?" When the other boy didn't answer, Les's eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. "Jack, how's he your brother? He don't look nothin' like you."

"He _doesn't_ look _anything_ like you," David corrected, and Les shrugged.

"Whatever. Their skin isn't even the same color."

"My dad and stepmother adopted him." Jack fell back onto the grass, obviously fed up with the little pow-wow his time with David had turned into.

"Oh, so he's not your _real _brother. Okay. Is he from Africa?" Les leaned in close to Cornelius, staring him dead in the eye. "Welcome to America," he said, speaking slowly and loudly. "I hope you like it here."

Cornelius set his jaw, rolling his eyes. "I'm from Queens."

"Oh." Les shrugged, as if there were little difference. "Hey, how come he gets to hang out with you'se guys? You always make me go do something else!"

"He doesn't," Jack said, glaring at Cornelius. "He was actually just about to go home."

"No, I wasn't," Cornelius interjected.

"Sure, you were." Jack looked at David, and David smiled. "Hey, Corny, how old are you again? Seven?"

"I'm ten and a half," Cornelius said indignantly. "And don't call me Corny."

"Hey, whattaya know, you're the same age as Les," David said, forcing an enthusiastic, albeit fake, smile. "Why don't you two go and play together? You have a lot in common."

The two younger boys regarded each other, each apprehensive to make the first move. "Maybe you guys'll actually like each other," Jack offered, "and maybe you can be best friends, like me and Dave."

Les shrugged. "I guess. Wanna hang out, then? I can show you around the neighborhood if you want."

Cornelius nodded. "Yeah, okay." He got up and he and Les wandered off, looking over their shoulders to see Jack and David high-five one another and lay back down in the grass, chattering contentedly once again.

"So what do you like to do?" Les asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and kicking at a rock.

"I don't know. I ain't been here that long, only like a week, so I don't really know what there is to do around here." Cornelius shrugged.

"Oh. Well, what'd you do for fun when you lived in Queens?"

"Uh... well, there wasn't much for me to do. I didn't leave my house much. I just kinda stayed in my room most of the time. I read a lot, I guess. I used to play video games but my dad sold my Nintendo and my TV set."

"Wow. I would've been really mad." Les looked over at Cornelius. "I don't know what I'd do without my Nintendo."

"Wasn't much I could do about it." Cornelius shrugged.

The two boys walked in silence for a while, until Les looked down, noticing the boots Cornelius wore. "What's with your shoes?"

"They're the only ones I have. Mom and Dad ain't taken me to buy new ones yet. 'Sides, I kinda like 'em." Cornelius looked down at his feet, smiling a little bit. "They're some of the only things of mine that my birth mom and dad didn't sell."

Les nodded, unsure of what to say, then decided to change the subject. "Hey, how come Jack calls you Cornelius? Jack always makes up nicknames for everybody. What's yours?"

"I don't got one... what do you mean, nicknames?"

"Well, like, everybody calls Jack Cowboy, and Dave, he's the Walking Mouth. 'Cuz he talks a lot or somethin'. And then there's Mush, and Kid Blink, and Racetrack, and Skittery... there's a whole bunch of 'em."

"What's your nickname?"

Les stopped walking. "I... I guess I don't got one yet, either." He shrugged. "How about we give each other nicknames?"

Cornelius looked over at Les, smiling a little. "Yeah, sure."

"I'll call you Boots."

"Boots?" Cornelius laughed. "Okay, I guess."

"What're you gonna call me?" Les led Cornelius, now Boots, over to a cluster of trees and started looking through the sticks and branches that had fallen to the ground.

"I dunno. You talk a awful lot." Boots laughed.

"Yeah, so's my brother. That's why Jack calls him the Walking Mouth."

"Well, I'll call you Mini Mouth, then. Even though there ain't nothin' mini about your mouth."

Les laughed, nodding. "Okay. So we're Boots and Mini Mouth. We sound like a couple of superheroes."

"Yeah, but I think we're too small to be superheroes. I think Jack and Dave and all their friends are more like superheroes. We're more like sidekicks."

"Yeah, I guess we are." Les picked up two branches, handing one to Boots. "Wanna fight, sidekick?"

The two boys sword-fought with the branches for a while, until they collapsed onto the grass, giggling hysterically. They laid beside one another, trying to catch their breath, until they fell back into an easy rhythm and stayed in silence for nearly half an hour.

"Hey, Boots?" Les said finally, looking over at his new friend.

"Yeah, Mini Mouth?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

Les took a deep breath, looking back up at the late-afternoon sky. "How come Mister and Missus Sullivan adopted you? I mean, what happened to your real mom and dad?"

Boots sighed, biting his lip. "Well... see, my real mom and dad, they had this problem. Junk was what they called it, but the policemen who came to my house were talking about something called methamphetamine. I remember that word 'cuz I thought it was really cool to say. But it's really bad stuff. It made them all crazy and it made them not love me anymore." He closed his eyes, as if he could hide from the memory. "That's why they sold all my stuff, so they could buy more of the junk. Sometimes they forgot to feed me or buy me food and stuff but I didn't really care, 'cuz they seemed like they were happy. I ate whenever I went to school."

"Wow. Why didn't you just leave?" Les rolled onto his side, staring at Boots.

"'Cuz I couldn't. They were my mom and dad, I couldn't just leave them." He sighed. "But they went to see the guy they were buying the junk from one night and I guess they owed him a whole bunch of money and they didn't have it, so the guy... he, um, he killed them. And the policemen came to my house and took me away. I had to go live in this orphanage for a little while, but then the Sullivans came along and said they'd be my new mom and dad."

"Do you like it here?"

"I don't really know yet. I mean, I feel safe here and all, I guess. But I kinda miss Queens. And I kinda miss my real mom and dad, even though they weren't very good people... at least, that's what the policeman said."

Les stared at his new friend for a few moments, then leaned in and pressed his lips to his cheek. Boots opened his eyes as Les rolled onto his back. "What was that for?"

"To make you feel better."

Boots smiled a little, then reached out and took Les's hand into his own. "Thanks." They squeezed one another's hands, and laid together, staring up at the sky. "Y'know, Mini Mouth, I think I'm gonna like it here."

"Yeah, Boots, I think you will."


	2. Inseparable

Les and Cornelius soon became inseparable. They did their best to always work together at school, spent all their time together at recess and walked home together to hang out more. Weekends were always spent with one of them at the other's house, even going to Mass or synagogue together, depending on where they were. Their parents were all ecstatic that they'd found friendship, as both of them had seemed awfully lonely before they'd met. Even Jack and David found them significantly more tolerable when they were together, though Les and Cornelius exacted their revenge upon their brothers by completely ignoring them most of the time.   
They'd become almost like brothers. Were it not for the difference in the colors of their skin, they probably would've been mistaken for brothers. They were the best of friends, and they intended to stay that way forever.  
Boots and the Mini Mouth, as they'd come to refer to one another, spent many a night awake, just talking. This particular spring night, as they wrapped up their first year of middle school, was no different; they laid in Les's bed, both unable to sleep as per usual to their overnight stays.  
"So I hear Tumbler has a crush on Bree Mitchell," Boots said, pulling the covers up over his shoulders.  
"Gross," Les replied as he stifled a yawn.  
"What, you don't think she's cute?" Boots stretched, entirely comfortable with his friend's body next to his and not caring when their shoulders brushed together. "Every guy in the school thinks Bree Mitchell is cute."  
"I guess I'm not every guy. 'Sides, girls just don't interest me all that much." Les shrugged and rolled onto his side, facing his friend in the darkness of his bedroom. "Maybe I'm just a 'late bloomer.' You know, that's not terribly uncommon for boys our age," he said, in a perfect imitation of their health teacher, Jonathon (whom the school preferred they call Mr. Roberts but he insisted otherwise).  
Boots laughed, shaking his head. "I don't really like her, either. I don't get what everybody likes about her so much. She's not that pretty and she's kind of a bitch."  
The boys both snickered at Boots's use of profanity, as cursing was still positively hilarious in their twelve-year-old minds. Once they both calmed down, Boots sighed. "Mini, do you think it's weird that we aren't into girls yet?"  
"Nah." Les shook his head. "I mean... I think so."  
"We'll come around, right? Like, we'll start seeing girls like the way they talk about in health?"  
"Yeah. We will, Boots. Don't worry."  
"What if we don't?"  
Les fell silent, staring at Boots's silhouette against the window. He'd never considered that possibility. "I... I don't know. I never thought about that."  
"If you don't like girls, does that make you gay?"  
"Yeah, I think so. Either that or it makes you a girl."  
Boots laughed a little. "You think that's what we are?"  
"What, girls?" Les shook his head and laughed. "I think we've got the wrong equipment for that."  
Boots swatted Les in the chest. "No, Les, you know what I mean. Gay. Do you think we're gay?"  
Les shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so."  
"How can you be sure?" Boots turned onto his side to face Les, wishing he could read his friend's face through the darkness.  
"I'm not." Les sighed. "I mean, I s'pose we'll figure it out, or something."  
"It's awful confusing." Boots punched at his pillow, as much to fluff it as to get out his frustrations.  
"Yeah, it is." And without stopping to think about it, Les leaned over and kissed Boots. Not like he kissed him the first day they'd met, with an innocent peck on the cheek to make him feel better. No, this was a full-on kiss, the way most boys their age had just started dreaming about doing with girls. And it was entirely selfish, all to make Les feel better, or at the very least a little less unsure, about himself.  
It didn't work, but it was nice anyway.  
When Les pulled away, Boots cleared his throat. "What was that for?"  
"I... I don't know. Wanted to, I guess." Les started to turn over to his other side, to face the wall and avoid whatever look Boots was giving him. "Sorry. I'm really sorry. Just forget about it, okay? Goodnight, Boots."  
"No, Les... it's... um, actually, I kinda liked it."  
Les stopped, laying on his back, and looked over at his friend. "Really?"  
"Yeah. It was kinda nice... but what gave you the idea to do it?" Boots pushed down the side of his pillow in order to see Les a little better.  
"Um... well, I've seen Jack and David do it. When they think nobody's looking. I've seen them do more stuff, you know, like really _bad_ stuff, but most of the time I see them kiss. Whenever they kiss, they say, 'I love you,' and I figured, 'Hey, I love Boots,' so I thought maybe I should kiss you."  
"I guess that makes sense... but do you think that it's wrong, that it makes sense?" Boots rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. "Like... do you think it's a sin?"  
"I hope not."  
The two boys didn't say another word to each other for the rest of the night, just drifted off into sleep to pretend everything was right in their world.

--

Jack came home from soccer practice, alone for once, and barricaded himself in his bedroom as he always did, whether he had company with him or not. Boots waited a few minutes to hear the blare of Fall Out Boy straining through his brother's door and across the hallway into his own bedroom, then got up and pounded on the door. The music paused to give way to a ringing silence, and then the door swung open to reveal a very perturbed-looking Jack.  
"What do you want?" Jack snapped, arching a bad-tempered eyebrow at Boots.  
Boots shuffled his feet, looking pitifully up at his brother. "I have a problem."  
"So talk to Dad and Linda about it when they get home, Corny, I don't have the time or the patience to play psychiatrist."  
Boots rolled his eyes and set his jaw. "Okay, first off," he snapped, "you can call me either Cornelius or Boots. My name is _not_ Corny. Got it?"  
Jack's head snapped back, his eyes widened in surprise. Boots had never stood up to him before. He actually felt a small swell of pride inside and had to hide a smile – so he was his little brother, after all. "Whatever. Sorry."  
"And second, this isn't a Mom-and-Dad type problem. I need to talk to you about it."  
Jack sighed and nodded, then stepped to the side. "Fine. Come in. But this had better not take too long. I have homework and then I'm supposed to go over to Blink's house to watch the ball game." Boots walked into the room he was always forbidden to enter, and looked around in wonder. The layout was exactly the same as his bedroom, but the deep-red color of the walls and the posters for movies like _Equilibrium_ and _American Psycho_ fascinated him. They were all movies that he wasn't allowed to watch, and they all had the same actor in them, who looked strangely like Jack. "Come on, I don't have all day. Sit down."  
Boots plopped down onto Jack's full-size bed, which seemed to be so much larger and more luxurious than his own measly little twin. Bouncing a little on the mattress, he looked at his brother. "Jack," he said, trying not to sound as upset as he was, "do you think it's wrong for a boy to like other boys?"  
Jack rolled his eyes. "Cornelius, of course you like other boys. All your friends are boys. Girls have cooties and all that shit, remember? Girls will grow on you, rumor has it that they're an acquired taste. I know they seem gross and shit now, but you'll start being friends with them and then you'll realize you want more. Or something."  
"No, Jack... I mean, do you think it's wrong for a boy to _like_ other boys... like... like most boys like girls?" Boots stopped bouncing and simply stared at his brother, his distress beginning to break through the surface.  
Jack leaned against his dresser and stared back, his eyebrows furrowing together. "Just what are you trying to tell me?"  
"You know how I spent the night at Les's house Saturday night?"  
"You say that like it's something new."  
"Yeah, well, it kind of is. Anyway, when we were trying to go to sleep, we were talking about this girl in our class that pretty much everybody likes and how we don't really like her, and how we don't really like girls at all, and then Les... he _kissed_ me."  
"Oh, wow," Jack said, nodding. "Yeah, I can see how that could be confusing."  
"But that's not even all of it, Jack. See, the thing is, I liked it. And I wanted him to do it again." Boots sighed and bit his lip, looking like he might cry. "And it's not the first time I've wanted him to. When I think about Les, I... I feel all... funny. And, well, something happens... with my... y'know."  
"Oh, Boots." For the very first time since Boots had been adopted, Jack was calling him something that wasn't condescending or degrading. And to the closely-listening ear, something was detectable in Jack's voice that sounded not unlike genuine affection.  
Jack stepped forward and took Boots's hand, pulling him up off the bed. Boots thought he was going to be thrown out of the room and have the door slammed in his face as he was used to, but instead he was pulled into a warm hug. "No," Jack said softly as he rested his chin on top of Boots's head, "no, it's not wrong. Don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise, okay, Boots? It's perfectly fine."


	3. Paranoid

What had once been a simple, brotherly sort of love had definitely escalated. One would have thought that after crossing such a line in their friendship, things would have been awkward and they would have been wary around each other, but strangely enough, it seemed to have brought the boys closer. Les and Cornelius were more at ease with one another than they ever had been before, and that feeling of peace between them carried on through their adolescence.

That brotherly love was no longer the sweet, innocent, playful bond it used to be. Boots and the Mini Mouth had begun to see their relationship from a new perspective by the time they hit the middle of their high-school years, both from the inside and the outside. They still saw it as something pure and innocent, not much of a change from when they were awkward little ten-year-olds, save for the fierce teenage sexuality that had wormed its way in during the past couple of years.

But Les and Boots knew that not everyone would see it as something natural. They knew that some people would see it as dirty, disgusting, would tell them exactly what the priest at Boots's church said when Boots asked about homosexuality – that they were an abomination in the eyes of God. Despite the way that society was changing, evolving, and supposedly becoming more accepting of people who strayed from the straight-and-narrow – no pun intended – they knew that they would be shunned.

Of course, that didn't mean that they gave a damn.

--

Boots let out a rare, unstifled moan, dropping his head back onto the pillow, breathless, as Les crawled up beside him. He wrapped an arm around his best friend's narrow shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"So, apparently I was wrong," Boots said after he caught his breath, as a sly grin began spreading across his face, his dark skin contrasted beautifully by brilliant white teeth.

"About what?" Les curled up against him, sliding his arms about Boots's waist. It was a position they assumed quite often, whether accompanied by their hormonally-driven activities or not. It was warm and comfortable and intimate, seeming to both of them as the way it should be.

"There's nothing mini about your mouth... at all." Boots laughed as Les punched him in the chest, rubbing the sore spot and shaking his head. "Hey, I'm just pointing out inaccuracies in my theory!"

"Yeah, well, if you're going to make a habit of mocking me with inaccuracies, don't expect to get _that_ again anytime soon." Les rolled his eyes, trying to hold back a laugh.

"Aww, come on," Boots said, turning onto his side and pressing his lips against his lover's. "You know I love you."

Les pulled his face away from Boots, his eyes wide and staring. "You do?"

"Don't look so surprised, Mini, I've told you that before."

"Yeah, but... not since we were like, eleven, and not... not like _that_." Les pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his face, exhaling heavily. "Neither of us has said it and meant it like that."

"Well, I do. Mean it, I mean. Like that." Beneath the dark color of his skin, Boots could feel his cheeks heating up. It was an exhilarating feeling, telling this to Les, and he wasn't quite sure why.

"Me, too." Les blushed and cleared his throat. "I mean, I love you, too."

Boots smiled and brushed a hand along Les's cheek. "How come we've never said that before?"

Les shrugged. "I don't know. I guess it's just one of those things where you just _know _and you don't have to say it."

"Makes sense. You think we could start saying it, though?"

Smiling, Les kissed him and nodded. "Yeah, I guess we could. I mean, it'll be a huge sacrifice and all, but I think we can handle it."

Boots rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. "And you bitch at me for sarcasm."

"It's different when I do it."

"Hypocrite."

Les laughed and nuzzled into his best friend's neck, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of his skin. They stayed silent for a few minutes before Les lifted his head. "Hey, Boots, how come we're never like this at school or when we go out?"

"'Cuz nobody's s'posed to know about us, you know that. Jack told us it'd be best not to let anybody know, remember?" Boots sighed. "I mean, he went through the same thing when he was in high school, and he said that we'd be safe if we just kept it between us."

"Yeah, but things are different than when Jack was in high school. A little bit, at least. Besides, there are gay kids at our school. We even have a GSA. I bet we'll be fine."

"Things aren't that different, and the GSA doesn't really affect us. I mean, come on, Les, we're on the football team. Do you have any idea how bad things could go for us?"

"You're paranoid."

"I'm not paranoid. I just spend copious amounts of time in a locker room with several large, meat-headed teenage boys."

"If you look in the dictionary under 'paranoid,' I guarantee you there will be a picture of Boots Sullivan."

"Shut up, Les."

"You love me."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure why."

--

"So how do you think you did?" Boots asked as he and Les walked out of science class together, twenty minutes late as Les had to finish his test.

"I don't know. I always get the symbols for the elements confused, so I think I bombed at filling in the periodic table. None of the symbols make sense anyway, half of them are letters that aren't even in the name, I mean, seriously, what the hell?" Les shrugged and continued walking down the empty hallway, heading for the parking lot and his car. "So eventually I just started spelling words with them."

Laughing, Boots threw an arm around his shoulders. "I thought Jews were supposed to be smart."

Les responded by giving Boots a sharp elbow to his ribcage. "And I thought black men were supposed to have big schlongs, but we can't all live by our societal stereotypes, can we?"

"Hey!" Boots pouted. "I may be Irish by nurture, but I'm still from the projects and I am not above fucking you up and stealing your stereo."

The boys laughed and Boots gave Les a friendly squeeze, causing Les to look up at him. "Hey, Boots?"

"Yeah, Mini Mouth?"

"Does it really matter, what they say in the locker room?"

"What?" Boots arched an eyebrow, racking his brain for a clue as to what Les was talking about.

Sighing, Les turned. "Like we talked about..." Without waiting for acknowledgment from Boots, Les pushed him up against the wall, pressing their lips roughly together. Boots let out a small yelp of surprise, then relaxed into the kiss, wrapping his other arm around Les's shoulders.

The two boys stood, pressed against one another, unaware of their surroundings or that anyone outside of them actually existed, for several minutes before they heard a throat clearing behind them. They pulled apart and turned to see the school's principal, Mr. Snyder, staring with an arched eyebrow and a tapping foot.

"Um, hi, Mister Snyder," Les said, dragging a hand through his hair as he felt his cheeks go red.

"Hello," Snyder replied shortly, shaking his head. "Both of you. My office. Now."

--

"You were kissing in the hallway." Gabriel Sullivan sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.

"And not _just_ kissing," his wife, Linda, said. "Kissing a _boy_." She threw her arms up in the air, looking at her son. "What were you _thinking_?"

"What's gotten into you, Cornelius? Didn't we raise you right? Didn't we teach you what was right and what was wrong?"

"You raised me fine, Dad, it's just--"

"This is all Francis, isn't it?" Linda slumped down into a chair, sighing. "He put these ideas into your head, didn't he? Oh, I knew that boy was trouble from day one."

Gabriel looked up at his wife, exasperated, but gave up on trying to defend his biological son. It was no use with her.

"There's a reason he doesn't live here anymore, Cornelius."

"He's in college, Mom."

"That has nothing to do with it. You know we don't allow this sort of thing under our roof. And to think of all the times you've stayed the night with that boy... God only knows what he's done to you... The Jacobses are such nice people, too, you wouldn't think their son would turn out like this... but of course, I wouldn't think _my_ son would, either."

"Sons," Boots muttered, and received a glare from his father.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," Linda said, crossing her arms over her chest, "you two will definitely _not_ be seeing one another again."


	4. Brotherly

It was pouring down rain when Boots got off of the subway, and as he climbed the steps to the sidewalk, the water trickled through his tightly-curled hair and slid down his face. He didn't feel a thing as he blinked the raindrops out of his eyes, he just stared ahead and walked.

He was soaked by the time he reached Jack's apartment, his clothes sticking to his skin and dripping quietly on the hallway floor.

As Jack opened the door, he gasped. "Jesus Christ, Cornelius! What in the hell happened to you?"

Boots shrugged and stared down at his shoes. "Can I come in?"

Jack stared at his little brother, wide-eyed. He nodded and stepped aside, watching Boots as he walked in. "Are... are you okay?" He shut the door and leaned against it, just watching Boots look around the apartment. "How come you're all the way out here?"

Boots shrugged again. "Just thought I'd come out and visit, I guess." He looked up at Jack, and what could almost be mistaken for a half-smile was playing on his lips. "Wanted to see my big brother."

Jack rolled his eyes and walked into the living room. "You're lying to me, Boots."

"How do you know?"

Shaking his head, Jack began digging through the basket of laundry on the couch. "Please, kiddo. I am the king of bullshit, I know it when I see it."

"Queen," said a voice from the doorway. Boots turned around to see Jack's roommate, Spot, leaning against the door frame between the living room and the kitchen, smirking as he chewed a bite of sandwich.

"'Scuze me?" Jack said, straightening.

Spot swallowed and grinned. "You are the _queen_ of bullshit."

"Shut up, Spot, you know you love the cock just as much as I do!" Jack threw a balled-up sock at Spot and Boots almost laughed.

Spot laughed and looked over at Boots, smiling. "Hiya, Boots, how's it rollin'?"

Lifting one shoulder, Boots shook his head. "Eh... I'm alive."

With his smile fading, Spot walked over and put a hand on Boots' shoulder. "Judging by the looks of you, I'd say that's debatable, pal." As he withdrew his hand, he looked over as Jack. "We got any dry clothes for this kid?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out, Spot. Is this laundry clean?"

"Hell if I know," Spot said as he took another bite of his sandwich. "Dave does the laundry, ask him."

"DAVE!" Jack yelled, and there was a scrambling to be heard down the hallway before a door creaked open and David appeared, his eyes sleepy and his hair disheveled.

"What?" David rubbed his eyes, yawning. "Can't you ever let me sleep?"

"Is this laundry clean?" Jack pointed to the basket on the floor.

"Yes," David grumbled. "Is that seriously what you got me up for?"

"Well, we need some dry clothes for Boots. He apparently went swimming in a mud puddle or something on his way over here."

David looked over at Boots. "Oh, hey, I didn't even see you there." He yawned again and shook his head. "What are you doing here? Are you okay? Les called me last night and he was totally hysterical."

"I'm hangin' in there, I suppose," Boots said quietly, though the expression on his face completely betrayed his words.

"What's going on?" Jack pulled a tee-shirt and a pair of sweatpants out of the laundry basket and looked at Boots, his eyebrows knitted together in concern. "What happened? What's wrong with Les?"

"Jack, let him change first, and then you guys can talk. He's starting to shiver."

Jack tossed the clothes to Boots and pointed him in the direction of the bathroom, and Boots went in to change. When he emerged, feeling pleasantly warm in the dry clothing, Jack was standing outside the door. "Something happened between you and Les, didn't it? Did you guys get into a fight? Did you break up?"

"Not exactly," Boots mumbled, biting his lip. His eyes stung, and that confused him; it had been almost two days and he hadn't cried. He didn't cry often – very few things could make him. So why would this?

"So what happened?" Jack wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders and led him back to the living room. As Boots flopped onto the couch, he looked up at Jack with wide, sad eyes.

"Mom and Dad found out," he said at length, his voice wavering a little.

"What? How?" Jack sat down on the edge of the armchair, leaning forward onto his knees.

"Well, me and Les, we had this talk... about how we were tired of hiding, and how we'd like to be just like normal couples, you know? So we were heading out to the parking lot yesterday, and he just randomly kissed me... and then Snyder came up and saw us and called our parents." He scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed, keeping his face covered.

"So I take it Dad and Linda didn't react terribly well."

Boots shook his head into his hands. "They won't let me see him anymore," he said, though his voice was muffled. "And I tried calling him last night and this morning and his mom won't even pick up the phone. He picked up once, but I'm pretty sure she unplugged the phone."

"Wow," Jack said, shaking his head. He patted Boots' knee and then sat back. "I don't know what to tell you, Boots. This is pretty intense."

Boots lifted his head. "Well, didn't you go through the same thing? Didn't Mom and Dad freak out over you and David?"

Jack shrugged. "Yeah, kinda, but... well, see, I didn't tell them about me and Dave until right before I moved out. And they found out from me, not from my principal... Dad just told me to get the fuck out and pray that God had mercy on my soul." He laughed a little, shaking his head. "It's kinda funny, now that I think about it."

"Yeah, but Jack... this is different."

"I know."

"Can't you see him at school?" Spot sat down beside Boots, his sandwich gone. "I mean, I know it isn't much, and you can't hang out a lot or do anything, but at least you can see him..."

"No," David said from the doorway. "My parents are actually talking about pulling Les out of school and home-schooling him. They're convinced it's the liberal public-school system that did this to him."

"What bullshit." Jack rolled his eyes. "There's gotta be some way you can see him, Boots."

Boots rubbed absently at his burning eyes, shaking his head. "Nope. Mom and Dad have me pretty much quarantined in my room, like I have leprosy or something."

"So how'd you get out?" Spot asked, smirking a little. "Did you have a master escape plan, like _Prison Break_ or something?"

"Nah... Mom and Dad just went to the supermarket. I doubt they'll even notice I'm gone." He sighed. "Dad won't come back to my room or even talk to me, so they probably won't check."

"Dad still won't look me in the eye, and Linda looks like she has a bad taste in her mouth every time she sees me. Though... she's always looked at me like that." Jack smirked.

"They're treating me like I'm some sort of freak." Boots looked at his brother with the same wide-eyed, scared expression he had when he was eleven and just as confused about himself. "Am I a freak, Jack?"

Jack felt the urge to cradle Boots like a baby, but seeing as the boy was about twice his size now, he refrained. "No, Boots. You're not a freak. You just differ from the majority of the population because you happen to like other boys. But there are a ton of other people who do, too, people like us, so you're not alone in that."

"Not other boys," Boots said quietly as he toyed with a string dangling from his shirtsleeve, "just one other boy."

Jack smiled a little. "You're perfectly normal. Just the fact that you're gay scares some people, especially good, stand-up, Catholic citizens like Dad and Linda."

Boots sighed. "I don't know what to do, Jack."

David sat down on the arm of the sofa, putting his arm around Boots' shoulders. "Are you going home tonight?"

Before Boots could answer, Jack shook his head. "Not in that rain, and not when you're too retarded to bring a coat or an umbrella. We'll get you a pillow and some blankets and you can crash on the couch."

"Are you sure?" Boots couldn't help but feel relieved at the prospect of not having to face his parents for at least one night.

"Well, it's not like I'm gonna turn you away. You can stay here as long as you need to."

Boots cleared his throat, the lump that had been there the past two days finally dissolving. "Thanks, Jack."

The four of them stayed quiet for a while, before David broke the silence.

"Well, if we're going to have an extra person tonight, we'd better figure out what we're going to do for dinner," he said, standing up and heading for the kitchen.

* * *

It was ten o'clock and with his stomach full of generic ramen and grilled cheese, Boots settled onto the couch with a stack of blankets to watch _Numbers_ with Jack and David. Just as the curly-haired Jewish guy got into giving the dad from _Independence Day_ a long-winded explanation on how he could use math to most effectively mop his kitchen floor, there was a quiet knock on the door. The three boys looked at each other, and David rolled his eyes.

"Please, Jack, don't get up, I got it," he deadpanned as he rose to answer the door. Boots pulled his blanket up higher and strained to listen to David's conversation. "Well, we've already kind of got company," he heard him say, "but I'm sure we can make room for you."

"The inn is full," Jack called out, "but if you don't mind the smell, you can pop your kid out in the manger if you want!"

"Shut up, Jack," David called back, and reappeared in the doorway. "Boots, you're going to have a companion tonight, hope you don't mind."

"Long as I don't have to share the couch, I'm fine," Boots said, straining to see who was behind David.

The young man stepped through the doorway, his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets. He looked toward the couch, and his expression seemed to soften in the television light. "Boots? What are you doing here?"

Boots sat up, and, looking at that familiar face, felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his chest. "I could ask you the same question."

David let out a loud and obviously fake yawn, accompanied by an exaggerated stretch. "Man, I am _beat_. Aren't you tired, Jack?"

Jack didn't take his eyes off of the television screen. "No, not really," he said, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth.

"You look tired. Why don't we go to bed?"

"I said I'm not tired, Dave, now would you shut up? I'm trying to watch the show!"

David gave an exasperated sigh. "Damn it, Jack, can't you take a hint? Let's go to bed!" He pulled Jack out of the chair and dragged him down the hallway.

Les and Boots could hear Jack grumbling as he went. "I'd better at least be getting sex out of this," he said before their bedroom door clicked shut.

"Those two are a couple of odd birds," Les said, shuffling his feet and staring at Boots.

"No kidding," Boots replied, moving his legs off of the couch. "You wanna sit down?"

Les nodded and plopped down beside Boots, sighing. "So... how are you holding up? Are you okay?"

"Would I be here if I was?"

Les nodded. "Yeah, me too." He looked over, and Boots saw in his face more sadness than he'd ever thought possible. "I miss you."

"Miss you too, Mini Mouth."

For the first time in two days, Les actually smiled. He wrapped his arm around Boots' shoulders, biting his lower lip. "I'm sorry about the whole phone thing. My mom sees your name on the caller ID and tells me she'll kill me if I dare to pick up the phone."

Boots shrugged. "It's okay... it's not like I can really get to the phone anyway, my mom took my cell away and unplugged all the phones in the house except for the one in her room." He sighed and leaned his head on Les' shoulder. "What are we going to do, Les?"

"I haven't got a clue." Les leaned his head against Boots', closing his eyes. "But I sure as hell hope we can figure it out soon, because I don't think I can handle this anymore."

"Me either." They fell silent for a few moments, before Boots lifted his head. "Are your parents really going to home-school you?"

Les groaned. "They threatened me with it, but they decided against it."

"Oh, good." Boots smiled weakly.

"Actually, not so good. They did decide that they're going to send me to the Jewish academy over on Forty-Ninth."

Boots' eyes widened. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not," Les said with a sigh. "They're actually paying a full year's tuition and then some to get me in this late. They seem to think that they maybe can kosher the homosexuality out of me."

Boots almost laughed. "Well, my folks are considering pulling me out and sending me to Central Catholic for the rest of the year. Like if I'm exposed to enough preaching and commandments, I'll begin to realize the appeal of the vagina." Boots shuddered a little bit at the thought. "Or better yet, become a priest."

"No, then you'd still be gay."

The boys shared a laugh, but it faded quickly. "Boots, how are we going to handle going to separate schools?" Les asked. "I mean, we can barely deal with being in different classes."

"Well, we graduate soon. We only have seven months to go. And then we're both going to NYU and we can see each other all the time."

"That's assuming my parents even let me go to NYU after this. They've been looking for an excuse to ship me off to rabbinical school, and this is the perfect opportunity for them to do it."

Boots rolled his eyes. "Okay, first off, that would be a waste of time, considering you'd be the worst rabbi _ever_, and second, you'll be eighteen by the time we graduate and you've got your football scholarship, so it's not like they can really keep you from going."

Les nodded. "I guess. But I don't think I can go for seven months without seeing you. I need you around. You keep me sane, you keep me from killing everyone I come in contact with."

Boots chuckled. "I love you, too." He smiled and shook his head. "We'll figure out some way to see each other. We can always come here, or go to 'study groups' at the library or something. Besides, we'll be able to get out eventually. Our parents can't keep us under house arrest forever."

"Yeah, but... it won't be the same." Les sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. "I really wish this whole thing hadn't happened and we normal old Boots and Les again."

"We're still normal, Les," Boots offered. "It's just going to be a little harder for us to be normal now." He shrugged and gave a small smile. "I think we can pull it off. We just have to be there for one another. You think we can do that?"

Les smiled back and brushed a hand along Boots' cheek. "Yeah, I think we can do that," he said, almost in a whisper.

Their lips met and both boys breathed a small sigh of relief at the contact. They spent probably half an hour just kissing, before the sudden, blaring music of the eleven o'clock news made them both jump.

"Jesus," Boots said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while Les got up to turn off the television. As the room went dark, Les turned around.

"Hey, Boots."

"Yeah?"

Les bit his lip and took a deep breath. "I think... you and me... um, I think we should have sex."

Boots coughed. "What? You mean... _tonight_?"

Les sat back down beside Boots, putting a hand on his knee. "Well... yeah. I mean, we've talked about it a lot before, but we both said we wanted it to be really special the first time, you know, so we've been waiting until we found the right time for it." He cleared his throat, squeezing Boots' knee a little, though more out of a nervous reflex than actual affection. "And... I think tonight's the night, Boots."

"With my brother and your brother and their roommate just down the hall and probably listening to everything that's going on our here." Boots let out a nervous laugh. "And you want to do it on their couch?"

"Well, no, I mean, we could do it on the floor," Les said earnestly.

Boots couldn't help but laugh. Les could be so cute sometimes, when he wasn't thinking. "So you want to lose our virginity in our brothers' apartment, in the middle of the night, while our parents are at home trying to figure out the quickest and quietest way to disown us."

"Yes. And your parents won't disown you... they spent too much money on adopting you."

"Touche." Boots rolled his eyes, though Les couldn't see it through the darkness. "Fine. Let's do it."

Les kissed him again, smiling. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Les."

* * *

Les and Boots awoke the next morning in a cozy tangle of limbs and blankets, and were reluctant to change it. They were forced to, however, when a loud pounding came through the apartment door.

"Francis Jack Connor Kelly Sullivan, you open this door this instant!" A woman's shrill, panicked voice accompanied the pounding, and Boots knew exactly who it belonged to.

"Les," he whispered, "I need to get up. My mom is here."

Les grumbled but rolled off of the couch, taking the blankets with him. Boots got up and tiptoed down the hallway to see Jack stumbling sleepily out of his bedroom.

"Go in there," Jack said, pointing to his room, "and shut up. I'll get rid of Linda. Don't wake Dave."

Boots slipped into Jack's room and leaned against the door, listening. Linda kept knocking and yelling. "Francis! I know you're in there! Open the door!"

Jack grumbled, and the door creaked open.

"Is Cornelius here? Have you seen him? Where is my son?"

"Hell if I know, Linda. I haven't heard from him."

Boots opened the bedroom door a crack and stared down the hallway, seeing his mother standing in the entryway, flustered. "He hasn't dropped by or called you or _anything_?"

Jack shrugged and leaned against the wall. "No. Like I said, haven't heard from him. I'll let you know if I do."

Linda looked around, biting her lip. "Why do I feel like you're lying to me? Why would you lie to me about this, Francis? My son is _missing_!"

Jack sighed. "Yeah, and he's not _here_."

Linda fisted her hands in her hair, looking thoroughly disturbed. "Oh, God. Oh, _God_, what if he got picked up by some random person on the street? What if he got picked up by someone on the street and he's somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, being forced to sell himself for food and shelter and heroin?" She looked at Jack, wide-eyed and panicked.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Jack muttered.

"Francis, we have to find him! My son could be a male baby prostitute right now!"

Jack grabbed Linda by the shoulders and shook her a little. "Linda, you aren't making _any_ sense. You've lost your fucking mind."

"Watch your mouth," she mumbled.

"Well, apparently it's not completely lost. But look. Boots probably just took off for the night and crashed at a friend's house. I'm sure he'll be home soon. Just go home and wait." Boots could see it was taking all of Jack's strength not to laugh at Linda's face. "That's about all you can do. I'll call you and Dad if I hear from Boots at all, okay?"

"Should I call the police?"

Jack shook his head. "No, it'll just be a waste of time. They've got better things to do, and it'll be a long time before they can even get around to looking for him. I'd just go home and wait, if I were you."

"What's goin' on, Jack?" Les shuffled into the hallway, blankets wrapped around him. "Hey, Linda."

Linda regarded him with cold eyes. "Lester," she said, setting her jaw.

"Oh, Linda's looking for Boots, apparently he took off last night. You heard from him?"

"Well, no, seeing as I'm not allowed to talk to him."

"And whose fault is that, Lester?" Linda quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Uh, yours, I'm pretty sure," Les shot back.

"Young man, you have _no_--"

"Okay!" Jack interrupted. "Les, go get a bowl of cereal or something. Linda, go home and wait for Boots, alright?" He spun Linda around and guided her out the door. "I'll talk to you later. Give my love to Dad. Bye." He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling. Peering up the hallway, he glared at Boots. "The things I do for you, kid."

Boots just gave him a sheepish look and crept out of Jack's room. "You love me," he said with a grin as he headed to the living room to join Les.

"Yeah, but sometimes I wonder why."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I realize it's been FOREVER since I updated. This is the advantage of being my friend on LJ... everything gets put up there first, or put only up there. ** **So if you have a Livejournal, click the link in my profile and add me and have all your fiction needs fulfilled.**

**Also, school is keeping me busy so I just can't be the updating demon that I used to be, and I'm sorry about that, but it can't be helped. I still love all you guys, and remember... nothing makes me happier than a well-rounded review! -Layne **


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